


Magic and Science

by CMBaggs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Jane Foster Loves Science, Loki Feels, Romance, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:12:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1854226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMBaggs/pseuds/CMBaggs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane gets a chance to show her husband a new facet of her character when they place too much faith in the science of their union. Magic has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic and Science

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Keenir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keenir/gifts).



> Bahahahaha. Because I think MCU could always do more with precious Asgard!
> 
> Seriously though. This is the first time I've ever entered into an exchange so I hope that I delivered. As you may be able to tell... I sort of got carried away.
> 
> Enjoy!

A breath of salty air floated into the Queen Mother’s chambers, shaking the fall buds and setting the pearly pink petals aflutter across the stonework. Sun glittered off the waters of the Marmora beyond her balcony, as gulls and egrets swooped and glided on the fresh currents.

Breakfast with the Queen Mother was, generally, a gracious affair and Frigga preened as a Queen at court, flanked by her sons and good-daughters. Loki indulged his mother and brother and wife in this new formed tradition. They insisted on this sentimental unity. And though he would never admit it to either of the three, Loki found it a little less inconvenient with each passing cycle. Even king’s need such frivolous diversions. The topics drifted as light as the breeze. Frigga wanted to see fire blooms and silver bells in the bridal bouquet, elegant and trailing and in the proper colours.

 “What do you want, Sif?” Jane asked. She smeared a teaspoon of honey on the fresh bread, but resisted taking a bite.

The bride to be chewed her lip until it grew more red and plush and cast her betrothed an imploring look. Sif found Thor to be a poor ally in such matters, so she turned to Jane. “I thought your flowers where lovely,” Sif said with a helpless shrug. “I only hope our ceremony will be as elegant.”

Loki bit his tongue at the idea Thor could be anything but Thor but his brother, to his eternal credit, laughed heartfelt and resounding. “It will be if only you will agree to wear the gown.”

“I suppose…,” Sif conceded. “I just feel more comfortable in armor than in silk.”

“It is one day, my love. We will go right back to defending the Nine Realms together. Nothing will change.”

“The people of Asgard will not forget your valor so easily,” Frigga said, sipping at her spring water.

“Just don’t waste any time making me an aunt,” Jane teased. “I want to be young enough to play with my niece or nephew.”

Mother managed a genuine smile in the face of Jane’s glaring mortality. “Norns willing,” she said, ever gracious. “Children are precious things that do not come to us very easily.”

Thor granted a warm lopsided grin and Sif ducked her head with a blush and a small smile.

“I suppose,” she said. “There’s no harm in trying.”

Loki shifted in his seat and, forcing a smile, reached for Jane’s hand. With her sheer presence she reminded him to enjoy this small niche of contentment that the Norns allowed him. Her beauty as fleeting and fragile as the pear blossoms. Aglow in the morning light, in a gown of creamy pinks and gold.

A servant leaned over their clasped hands to place a platter in front of the queen consort. Fried bacon and three minute eggs.

Jane’s face paled. Her ironwood chair toppled with a heavy clatter as she shot up, hand over her mouth, eyes wide and stricken. Thor and Loki stood with her, as chivalric code demanded, but neither moved as Jane of Midgard searched about in panic. She whirled on the spot and rushed to the balcony to retch into a lush planter of white and violet Aquiligia, her delicate little hands braced against the brim. Loki nearly tripped on her toppled chair to join her, rubbing soothing circles on her back. The act of comfort only seemed to make his wife heave with greater vigor.

“Jane?” he asked, pulling her hair from her face.

“Oh, god,” she moaned miserably. “The smell of these flowers only makes it worse!”

“Goodness, child,” Frigga said, voice laced with maternal warmth. “Have you long been afflicted?”

“I didn’t think that I was sick…” Jane whimpered. “Maybe all this rich food is getting to me?”

“You have been able to eat little more than fruit and bread for the last week,” Loki supplied. “Too many late nights, perhaps?”

Jane heaved again. Sif exploded into action, tossing the offending pungent meat over the balcony railing and into the garden below. Thor laughed. Again. How did one remain so blatantly joyful? “Decisive as always, my love. We will keep this indiscretion from Volstagg.”

Mother came around the table, to stand at Jane’s left. Once there, she placed a hand over the young woman’s brow. Frigga then reached for Jane’s decorated wrists, and pulled her into a straighter posture.

“You do look rather… flushed,” Frigga said. Her tone remained reserved, thoughtful. The queen mother stared deep into the queen consort’s eyes. “We must take you to Eir.”

Jane nodded, for once too out of sorts to argue.

* * *

 

They passed the gates of Lyfjaberg and entered the bright courtyard lined with dignified sentinel cedars. Beds of primroses and emerald moss and ferns carpeted the grounds. Aesir meandered beneath the cloistered eaves, escorted by healers in their silver and grey gowns. Loki guided Jane along the central stone path with courtly gallantry, her arm twined with his own. His hand rested upon hers, a quiet act of protectiveness. Frigga strolled along on his other side in companionable silence.

Eir greeted them in the garden, her silver and slate robes stirred in the cool air as she rushed to greet them. Her brass locks plaited in a thick braid down the center of her back. She and the queen mother embraced, kissing one another on the cheeks, exchanging pleasantries.

“What brings the Royal family to the Hill this fine day,” the healer asked. “Has Prince Thor been cut down by his bride in a fit of panic? The course of planning never did run smooth.”

Mother laughed.

“Getting Sif into a proper gown is like giving a shadow lion a bath, but they are content. In truth, we are here for Jane. It seems my good-daughter has fallen ill,” Frigga said, pulling Jane forward. “We hoped you could examine her.”

“It would be an honor,” the healer replied. She smiled and considered the queen consort with a critical eye. “What are your symptoms, your Grace?”

“I’ve been pretty nauseous. The smell of meat bothers me most, but I’ve also never eaten this much barbeque in my life. ”

“Is there anything else?”

“I guess I’ve been tired. I slept through the day yesterday and I _still_ feel totally drained.”

Eir hummed, her brow creasing.  “Come. Let us see what the Soul Forge will reveal, shall we?”

They followed Eir into the double doors of the main building, into the shade of the stone temple. They came to a room with the examination table in the center about the size of a single bed. The surface glowed white.

“My queen,” Eir said, motioning to the table. “Please, make yourself comfortable. We will begin in but a moment.”

Loki guided her to the slab and lifted her, seating her on the edge. Jane blushed. He cradled her head in his hands and pressed a kiss to her brow.

“Soon we’ll know all there is to know,” he said and she allowed him to guide her back, lying flat.

As her head touched the table the room dropped into darkness, mere seconds before the Soul Forge activated with its soothing hum. Soon the threads began to glow warm, fluctuating from red, to fire orange to shimmering yellow gold.  Jane gasped, her wide amber eyes glowing in the warm radiance of the exposed seidhr. “Is this a Quantum Field Generator?”

“It is a Soul Forge,” Eir corrected, somewhat superciliously as she intuitively negotiated the radiant, fluctuating dials. Her two novices smirked behind her, stifling their breathy little giggles.

Unfazed, his Jane launched her query. “Well… does a Soul Forge transfer molecular energy form one place to another?”

Eir paused and, for a moment, looked surprised. She smiled, genuinely this time. “That is a rather impressive conclusion, your Grace. There is no transfer per say. It coaxes seidhr into visibly manifesting into an echo of your life-force, your soul, as you can see.”

“Like computerized tomography?”

“Does your computerized tomography allow an unencumbered view of all things that make one unique?  Does it grant a moving image of your flesh and bones and organs or of your life force and blood? Your thoughts and the strength of your soul?”

Jane grinned at him and Loki felt his heart clench. Eyes wide with dizzy excitement she mouthed; _I need one of these!_

Loki smiled. Could he procure her a Soul Forge to disassemble? They were works of art unto themselves… but it would make Jane so euphorically joyful. And there was something about her, flushed with the excitement of discovery that was so very beguiling.

The night he gifted her with an Asgardian armillary sphere remained enshrined in his memory not because of a singular uniqueness. No. That night would remain clear based on the merit of its fundamental nature that echoed in even their most basic interactions.

The magnetic propulsion of the perpetual motion alone had been enough to have Jane marshaling her curiosity into a breathless barrage of questions. When he shared that _he_ had crafted it entirely for her, the excitement and genuine appreciation flowered into something else entirely. Adoration annealed with sheer visceral desire…

Loki clenched his fists until the sudden want of her subsided. He would find his wife a Soul Forge.

“The Soul Forge simply marshals the threads into an image even non-weavers can see and understand,” mother said.

‘Simply’, she says,” Jane quipped, giddy with curiosity. Her eyes sought his again and she winked playful even under examination. “I see now where you get it from.”

Loki chuckled. “It _is_ simple,” he insisted, with a smile, “for those attuned to the flow of seidhr.”

“Oh, I’m getting attuned,” Jane riposted with a little chuff of air. “Don’t you worry.”

He grinned in spite of himself as mother took her hand.

“So it would seem,” the queen mother mused with a sly smile.  She pointed to a radiant, glowing mass about the size of a peach. “Here is the evidence. It seems we shall soon have a little princess.”

Loki inhaled sharply. He tore his eyes from the image to examine Jane. Jane, whose beautiful eyes only widened further, a gorgeous mix of wonder and alarm. “So that’s it then. I’m…?”

“With child,” Eir confirmed. “Most certainly.”

“Oh,” was all she managed. Jane went silent for a moment, staring solemnly at the flowing gossamer image, processing. She reached out, the warm orange hues of the seidhr warping around her delicate fingers. “This is way cooler than any ultrasound… ”

Loki allowed his gaze to drift from Jane to the image above her. To the glowing life force, so much brighter than he had imagined such a thing could be. He had not dared allow himself this, to imagine such a thing, since Jotunheim. Like his ice magic, he locked it away deep. If he did not speak of it, or use it, then maybe…

“A baby,” he said. “Is she…?” The fear coiled at the tip of his tongue. He could not bring himself to voice it. Mother looked at him, her brows slanted in concern and knowing.

“The baby is hale and hearty,” Eir said, not taking her eyes of the readings before her. She pursed her lips. “Her physiology appears to be mortal and predominantly… aesir?”

“Aesir…” Loki whispered on a relieved breath. His eyes burned and he blinked the tears away.

“She shares your affinity, your Highness.”

“Affinity?” Jane asked, somewhat absently, fixated on that brilliant little bundle.

“Magic,” mother replied. “Be forewarned, my dear. She will be a little trickster.”

Jane only grinned.

His _daughter_ , a master of seidhr. Already she was perfect in ways he had not dreamt. Loki haltingly brought his hand to settle upon Jane’s stomach. It felt… instinctive to do so.

“Selah…” Jane whispered, squeezing his hand with her own.

“What?” he croaked. He all but choked on the unsolicited emotions, and gazed down at her.

“Methuselah,” Jane said, “is the oldest star _my_ people have ever named. Pretty fitting for a daughter of both Midgard _and_ the Realm Eternal.”

Loki swallowed, taking a moment to gather his wits.

“A bit of a mouthful for a child, would you not agree, little dove?”

“I do,” she conceded, smiling up at him warmly. She positively glowed, all honey and caramel. “So we’ll call her Selah.”

“It is a glorious name,” mother crooned, hands clasped before her chest in an effort of barely controlled joy. “Thor and Sif will be so excited!”

Jane grinned happily, and returned her focus to the gossamer imagery of the Forge. “It’s beautiful, of course but it also looks so… angry. Wait! Is it even safe for me to be close to this stuff? I mean, the baby….?”

“Yes, your Grace,” one of the novices answered quickly. “You are both perfectly safe. The king and queen mother radiate more strongly… and your little one seems swaddled in it already.”

“All that talk about affinity was serious?”

“Of course, your Grace! See? See how she glows? Like a little star, just as you said. Look. We have these tablets which -”

Jane gasped. “Oh my gosh!” Loki drew his hand away as she lunged for the tablet in the novice’s hand. “Give me that!”

“A baby.” Loki forced the words out of his throat. He kept his hands at his side, pressing his thumbs viciously into his index fingers, all while struggling to keep a mask of idle curiosity plastered to his face. “How can this be? I thought we were incompatible.”

Eir cleared her throat and her novices glanced her direction.

“Please,” she said. “Continue with your rounds. I will rejoin you shortly.”

They bobbed their heads. The novice gently pried her tablet from the queen consort’s grasp, offering an apologetic smile in answer to Jane’s clear disappointment.

“Do they have to go already?” she asked with a pout.

Eir nodded. “I wish to have a word with you, in private, your Grace.”

“Oh, of course,” Jane said.

Loki felt his stomach drop.

The novices bobbed again, this time in curtsey and scurried from the room as the sconces sprang back to the life. The Soul Forge quieted and the summoned seidhr dissipated.

Frigga smiled. “I shall excuse myself as well,” she said. “I will await you in the gardens.”

“No,” Loki said, almost too quickly. “Please. Stay.”

She hesitated but a moment, considering perhaps, just as he already had what Eir meant to say and the wisdom in staying. Then, mother returned to his side, and patted his shoulder. “Alright,” she said. “If it please you.”

He took a steadying breath. “It would.”

Eir closed the doors before turning to face the royal family. She licked her lips and straightened her shoulders. “You _should_ be incompatible,” she said bluntly. Her soft grey eyes landed on Loki, and then, he could swear he detected the sting of accusation in her tone, she said; “Your seed should never have quickened in such a womb.”

“Excuse me?” Jane snipped, propping herself up on her elbows. “Are you implying what I think you are?”

Eir’s eyes widened.

“No, certainly not! I meant no disrespect, my queen,” she said and then, more gently. “The babe swaddles herself in the threads already. Woven with it. The king is her father, without a doubt. I simply state the fact that you are … mortal. While he… my king. You… you are…” she snapped her fingers, trying to summon the right word.

Of course Eir knew, he realized with a spasm of irritation. Years of nursing his ills, how could she not know?

“A monster?” he supplied bitterly.

“Unique,” mother quickly corrected.

“That is putting it mildly, your Grace. Simply put, there is no way this should have happened. It is akin to a stag mating with an ewe.”

Jane managed to flinch with grace.

“Wow…” she said, taking a breath between her teeth. She sat up and forced a smile. “While I get the science behind what you’re _trying_ to say… your delivery needs work.”

“Does any of this truly matter?” Frigga asked, mild and sagacious. “This babe exists. She has been woven from love. This is a blessing.”

“Hopefully, Norns willing, she will be,” Eir said, her attention focused on Jane. “You must proceed with caution. If you chose to proceed at all.”

Jane frowned, as she allowed her legs to dangle over the edge of the examination table. “Okay…?”

“You are the first to carry such a hybrid,” Eir said. “I do not actually know how the babe will tax you. Gestation is strenuous. The kidneys, the liver, the heart…”

“What are you saying?”

Eir huffed. “I am saying I do not know what will happen. I have hypothesis, and intuition… but no practical knowledge. For example, an aesir child takes several of your years to develop, or perhaps it will demand too much. And the child certainly is aesir is some way. My point is you could perish from the strain before the babe has even come to term. And if the babe develops any jotun physiology then…” Eir looked away.

Loki rocked back, his mind filling with a boiling, blinding panic as the full implications rushed to the forefront. Just like that the blinding joy from moments earlier washed away.

 “Then?” Jane prompted, dauntless.

“Aborting the child would become an option. The safest option, to be perfectly frank, your Grace.”

 “What?” Jane demanded. “Uh-uh. No way.”

“Jane,” Loki rasped. His words failed him, even as he drove his right thumb into the crease of his left palm. He considered Eir’s warning, his traitorous imagination conjuring the possibilities. Of her suffering through a doomed pregnancy. Of losing the child early. Of Jane dying in the birthing chamber. All while he looked on utterly helpless to save either from any of it. Cursed poisonous sentiment would never allow him to forgive himself. “Please... consider her words.”

His wife did not seem to hear him. Or she simply chose not to. Jane often chose to outright ignore negativity in favor of solving her precious equations.

“This was supposed to be impossible,” Jane said, shaking her head as the frown cleaved her brow. “Right? And yet here we are. So I can handle this.”

“Your Grace, it will be at great risk…” Eir began. “We know so little.”

“Well, she’s mortal too, right?” Jane persisted, her hand resting on her middle protectively. Her voice hardened. “Maybe this will be over in nine midgardian months. You said yourself, Eir. You don’t _know_. Maybe, aside from inheriting Loki’s magic she’ll be perfectly ordinary. Maybe we just need to calm down and let nature continue to take its course.”

Eir fell silent. She and mother and Jane exchanged gazes, their tenacity seeming to coalesce in the interim. Women… Mortal or Aesir, it mattered not. It seemed that in this singular struggle they were united.

“She grows quickly,” Eir conceded. “Norn’s be good! You’ve been wed for less than a phase!”

“Mortals are fertile,” mother ruminated, smiling.

“Yes,” Jane conceded with a roll of her eyes and a blush heating her cheeks, “We’re like bunnies. I know.”

“By the Grove,” Eir uttered, “this is folly.” She gave a shaky smile. “Well, alright then! We’ll get you some tea to help with that nausea. If you’re determined to carry this child, your Grace, you will need your strength.”

“Thank you, Eir.”

“Once,” Frigga confided, “I ate an entire roasted goat and a tray of honey nut treats when I carried Thor. It was most ungracious.”

“I can only imagine,” Jane said charitably.

“And continue to rest,” Eir instructed, ignoring their banter. She sounded stalwart now, as unflinching as Tyr on the eve of a battle. “Your body knows what it needs, so you would do well to listen. I want you here once a day. I must monitor her growth, both of your vitals. And it is absolutely paramount that I be alerted to _any_ new symptoms. I _must_ know _everything_ , your Grace. Do you understand? I know it seems excessive but given the circumstances...”

“No, you’re totally speaking my language,” Jane said. A smile started to form. “We don’t know what to expect. Observation is critical.”

She carried his child, some half breed mix of mortal and jotun. And Aesir, by some wild miracle. A trick and twist of his magic. Variables beyond measure with her vary life in the balance and here his precious Jane sat, damnable, voracious, fragile little thing that she was, speaking as easily as she did about the birth and death of stars.

“This is not one of your damned experiments!”

The women fell silent. Eir compressed her lips, as if biting down the urge to ask why a male stood in the room at all. Mother’s brows arched sharply, the reproach gentle but clear. And Jane. Her jaw hung open slightly in surprise. The hurt in her eyes drained the venom from his tongue more surely than any slap or rebuke.

“Loki?” Jane said.

Loki blinked, bridling his rage, his fear, his worry. A wild, willful mixture. The words he wanted to say raced through his mind, slick as trout. _I fear for you. I don’t want to lose you. I know_ nothing _about being a father. I’m not ready. I’m not ready. I_ can’t _lose you!_

“Are you okay?”

One simple question and he wanted to laugh at how stupid she left him feeling. Fragile, fleeting little Jane. Even now, as she contemplated a battle she would face alone, _she_ worried for _him_. He shook his head in denial, moved the one step he needed and took her head in his hands, his fingers threading in her hair. His brave, beautiful, intrepid Jane.

“I despair,” he whispered, feeling a single tear slip despite his efforts. “I am sorry, Jane. I am such a fool.”

“It’ll be alright,” Jane said, sensing, as always, the deeper truth beneath the veneer. She laid her hand against his cheek. “I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

“Are you certain?” he asked.

She kissed him. Petal soft and warm and sweet as mead and he felt, despite his dread, the heated rush of his blood and the thunderous dissent of his treacherous heart. When finally she pulled away and they opened their eyes, she gazed up at him. Brown eyes wide and steady and worlds more courageous, more assured, more determined than he felt.

“Yes.”

He pressed his forehead to hers and his eyes slipped closed. He wanted to believe her.


End file.
